


Angry Delinquent's Fucking Normal Family

by Ealasaid



Series: A City In Shadows [6]
Category: Homestuck, Problem Sleuth (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Mobsterswitch, it's just a chill family setting guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-18
Updated: 2011-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-26 05:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ealasaid/pseuds/Ealasaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the one time when having an extremely stable and loving family actually does me some good because clearly colleges don't want to hear about well-adjusted people who didn't have to overcome home abuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angry Delinquent's Fucking Normal Family

**Author's Note:**

> I was drinking when I wrote this and I am definitely drunk writing this.

“Honey, I’m home!” Delinquent called as he walked in through the front door. On the job, he was Angry Delinquient-- at home, he was Anxious Dad. But that was fairly par for the course for him.

His lovely Wifehearst was in the kitchen cooking dinner, which appeared to be a tasty combination of meatloaf and roast potatoes. She kissed him on one cheek as he leaned in to try to filch a few crumbs of meatloaf and batted his hand away. “Dinner’s on in five minutes,” she said fondly. “Go change your clothes and say hello to your son.”

“Good idea,” Dad said gruffly, all parental-like as was befitting an Anxious Dad. 

“Dad!” yelled Sonhearst, cannonballing into the kitchen without Dad even having to go looking. He bowled into Dad’s legs and immediately started climbing up his front.

“Sonhearst!” cried Wifehearst, half exasperated, half amused. “You can’t even let your father put his things away before distracting him like a little hooligan?”

Her admonitions fell on deaf ears, however. Dad was laughing in a manly way as he swung Sonhearst around in a circle and gave him an affectionate noogie as Sonhearst giggled like the seven-year-old he was.

A few more minutes saw the happily normal family sitting around the little table in the kitchen passing food back and forth. 

“So how was work, dear?” Dad’s wife asked.

Dad dug into his meatloaf and potatoes and took a contemplative bite. “It went well,” he said, and squirted some ketchup next to his potatoes. He winked at Sonhearst, who was obviously itching to do the same, as Wifehearst sighed and rolled her eyes. “We were making plans for our next job.”

“Oh?” It was by mutual consent that they didn’t discuss the Scoundrels’ heists at the dinner table in front of Sonhearst. Wifehearst was well aware as to how the main source of income was provided in the family, and while she didn’t disapprove-- he was the man of the house, after all-- she did not want Sonhearst to be influenced by his father’s dealings. Fortunately for the couple, Dad was in complete agreement-- at least, until Sonhearst was a man.

“But I did see Inny today,” Dad went on, this time addressing his son. “He told me to say hi to you, but he also make this thing I thought you might like.” Dad felt around in his pockets and pulled out a tiny windup car after a few moments.

Sonhearst promptly dropped the fork and knife his mother was patiently teaching him how to use and snatched up the car with glee. “Dad, dad,” he cried, staring at it with curious excitement. “What does it do, what does it do?”

“Not at the table!” Wifehearst said sternly. Sonhearst looked disappointed, but meekly picked his utensils back up and started eating properly, probably in an effort to please his mother so that he could play with his new toy sooner.

“How was your day, dear?” Dad asked. He listened to Wifehearst as she conveyed the salient details of the gossip she had learned over the course of the day with her other housewife friends when she went out shopping. It wasn’t extremely interesting, but it made her happy.

Sonhearst soon became bored with all the grown-up talk and fidgeted on his chair, increasingly ignoring his mother’s absent interjections for him to stop playing with his food. Dad, half grateful for a chance to cut off the gossip distracted the boy by pointing to his glass of water and asking, “Do you know why there’s water on the outside of the glass?”

“No,” Sonhearst answered, a little sulkily.

Dad ignored the bored tone. “It’s because the water is colder than the air in the room,” he said seriously. “See, there’s water in the air all around us. Isn’t that weird?”

“You’re lying,” argued his son, unconsciously dropping the whine. “There can’t be water all around us!”

“No, it’s true!” Dad said firmly. “It all has to do with these things called molecules...”

An hour later, Sonhearst was being swept off to bed after a bath, away from his toy car that shot across the linoleum floor of the kitchen far faster than commercially produced windup toys-- it also had tiny headlights and taillights that really worked, a very exciting fact for Dad’s young son-- by Wifehearst, despite his protests. Dad lovingly rumpled his son’s hair and kissed his forehead as he and Wifehearst tucked Sonhearst in together. The couple only stayed up a few hours after their son, sharing a glass of wine, affection, and potentially some romance, before they too retired to bed. And in the morning, Sonhearst would go to school, Wifehearst would start the household chores, and Angry Delinquent would head off to work.


End file.
